


The Color of Life and Jealousy

by airshipper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, canon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airshipper/pseuds/airshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Arthur of Camelot: arrogant, compassionate, knight, magic.<br/>In a land where sorcery is banned and practitioners punished with death, Arthur struggles to keep his errant magic hidden from Camelot and his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Color of Life and Jealousy

When Arthur was very little, he was raised mostly by the servants. _If he thought very hard, he could remember his father, the way his face screwed up whenever he looked at Arthur. He never spent more than five minutes in the same room until Arthur was old enough to hold a practice sword. (He knew now, of course, that his father was terribly busy the first few years of his life. He didn’t have time for a foolish boy.)_

_Arthur was a calm child. He knew even when he was young that anything he asked for would be given to him, so there was hardly any need to fuss. He was a spoiled rotten child for a long while until, full of too many sugared fruits and sweetmeats, he threw up in front of everyone and was put into Gaius’s care._

_Gaius had the patience of a saint, though Arthur would never, ever admit it. The old man was probably the only reason he’d grown up to be a respectable heir and not like his poncey cousins or the washy noblemen that came to stay at the castle, who wore thin gloves to touch anything lest their poor fingers suffer. (Morgana told him once that when ladies did embroidery, they had to wear such gloves lest the roughness of their_ fingers _damage the_ thread _.) Gaius did not give him everything he asked for. He argued with him, and scolded him, and even punished him when he tried to steal a puppy from the litter of the hound that bit him._

_Arthur remembered the stories the serving folk would tell him before he went to bed. (Gaius never told these stories, even when Morwydd told him that they were the surest thing she knew to get Arthur to do as he was told.) They talked about the witches the hid beneath the bed if he got up during the night. They hid around every corner, evil and petulant and sinister. He knew about their acid-terrible magic that seeped into bones and the bloody rituals they used to cause the nasty weather and bad food._

_“Magic, Arthur,” he remembered one of the few times that Uther Pendragon had sat him down to talk. “Is utterly evil. I work to banish it from the realm so that you may grow up free from its seductive grip.” (He didn’t know what seductive meant, then. Gaius didn’t tell him when he asked.) “I fear that will not come to pass as it is as deeply rooted as the trees. But I will burn the forest until magic itself is razed to the ground. When you grow up, Arthur, you will fight this battle alongside me. Do you understand?”_

_He didn’t really. “Yes, Father.”_

_Arthur was no more than five winters when Gaius had an injured knight brought into the room. The man was limping, so Arthur guessed his leg hurt. That was all he really knew or cared about, except that he now had nothing to do while Gaius did whatever Physicians do to men whose legs hurt. He crept up the battered stairs to the narrow hall lined with stained wooden shelves filled with old leather books and scrolls all brown and grey with age._

_Earlier in the week Gaius had read a story out of one of them. (Morgana had been there too for a little while, until their fathers had finished their business together.) He liked the story and fancied reading it again, though he could only read a few words well. He could write his name, though. Perhaps he’d find the book and write his name in it._

_Gaius talked downstairs to the knight and the men who helped him in. They created a soft background patter as Arthur creaked across the wood to the furthest shelves, running a stubbly little hand over the books he passed. The sun was sinking in the little window Gaius had and the shadows were making it harder and harder to see the books. Arthur glared at one spine and it lit up like someone held a candle right next to it._

_Arthur started and turned to look over his shoulder at Gaius, but no one was there. He didn’t see any lights at all, but for the torches down below, until he saw his hand, glowing eerily in the dark. It glowed like trees made of starlight, or starlight made of spring leaves. It glittered green and gold, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. He stared for a moment then the cold panic hit him._

_Arthur wailed, head back to the ceiling. The talking downstairs and frantic footsteps started as he screamed and cried and cried and cried._

_\--_

“Let this serve as a lesson to all.”

Arthur leaned on the wall next to the window. The morning light was streaming in across the stone floor and rugs, splashing across his unmade bed. He looked at his nails, flexing his fingers slowly. His father’s voice drifted through the window, loud since he was right outside the courtyard full of silent people. A glitter of green rose up from his palm and he turned his hand over.

“I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery there is but one sentence I can pass.”

Arthur flinched at the thick sound of the thump on blood stained wood. He squeezed his hand shut and made his way outside.

He met Uther coming in. Arthur cocked his head. “Something wrong, Father?” He looked ruffled. Not a state Arthur associated with the magic executions and Uther.

“No… Nothing. You’ll be at the feast, of course.”

“Of…course.” Uther put a heavy hand on his shoulder and walked past. “Oh! Father,” He paused. “I still need a new servant.”

“Yes, yes. I’d forgotten. We will hold a gathering in… sometime. You can pick someone then.” Arthur bowed to him and he left the hall to his study.

Leon told him that evening that a sorceress had appeared at the death of her son. “She cursed the King,” he said, walking with Arthur. “We attacked to subdue her, but she vanished.”

“Father was fine when I saw him,” Arthur said, glancing back. His brows furrowed.

“She didn’t attack. Gaius said he was fine.”

“Magic can be subtle. Insidious.”

Leon patted his back. “And if Gaius cannot find it, I doubt there is anything.” Arthur finally nodded.

 

Morgana was in a sour mood the next day. “Oh hello, _Arthur_. I didn’t see you in the _courtyard_ yesterday. What possibly took more priority than watching an innocent man die in front of his mother?”

“ _Morgana_ —” She huffed. Arthur glowered at her. “I take it Father would actually lock you in your room. Is that why you are coming after me?”

“I have already told the king my feelings on the matter!”

“He goes too easy on you, Morgana.” Arthur snapped. She scoffed and tossed her hair.

“You could try,” she spat. “But you’re too frightened that I would win any fight we’d have.”

“I am _not_ frightened of you!” Arthur said. He wasn’t! She was short and skinny and her fingers were too thin to hold more than a hairpin!

“Then let’s go! You can show me how compassion should be treated!”

“My god, Morgana, just be quiet!” Arthur shouted. She made a derisive and unladylike snort and Arthur blushed. “Just,” he said. “Stop it. That man practice magic. I’ve no doubt he did terrible things with it.”

“We don’t know that because he didn’t even have a trial.”

“We don’t need to. Magic… corrupts.” Morgana glared at him.  “Bollocks, Morgana! Shall I go find exactly what he and his mother did with that magic? Or are you so settled in your fantasy that hearing—”

“Some boy barely a man—”

“Probably killed people, terrorized them.”

“What, like you and Uther?” She sneered. Arthur faltered.

“You talk too much.” He spun and walked stiffly away before he really did accept her challenge for a duel. “Don’t speak treason in front of Father.”

Arthur stalked down the hall sharply dodging servants and visitors. He glanced up ahead. “Leon! Walk with me.” Arthur said. “And you,” he snatched some page or servant walking by. “I’ll need you to do my armor.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Sir Leon, do you know the context of the Collins man’s arrest?” Leon looked at him, blinking.

“I wasn’t present, if that’s what you mean.” Arthur shook his head. “I… read the report when it Sir Belvidere submitted it, sir.” Arthur nodded. They turned from the hall to the armory. Leon was already dressed for training. Arthur waved vaguely for the boy to gather his armor.

“And? How was he spotted?”

“It was rumor in their village for some time now, I think. The mother would sell illness remedies for profit.” Morris, Arthur remembered his name now, came over with his arms full of metal and leather. He caught a sleeve on one of the sword racks and pulled the whole thing down. Leon winced.

“Have you two left feet? What are you doing, man?” Arthur said through his nervous chorus of apologies and ‘ _my_ _lord’s_.

“Ahem,” Leon started again. “Uh, I believe he was brought to light by a neighbor visiting Camelot.”

“Yes?”

“That’s it, sire.”

“I see.” Arthur said. Morris dressed him quickly and admittedly very efficiently. He knocked over two more shelves trying to pick up the swords until Arthur threw up his arms. “Just leave it! I am surrounded by idiots!”

Leon fled with halfhearted excuse of bureaucratic desk work and stifled laughter. Arthur ordered a maid on her way by to pick up the armory and dragged Morris to the training fields. “Shall we cure you of your clumsiness? You will lose that extra left foot one way or another!”

“Oh god…”

Taking out his mood on someone was the best thing that happened to him all day. He was very amusing, this servant Morris. Sir Kay and Belvidere joined him quickly, encouraging him. Their nonjudgmental company was pleasant and loud and sycophantic.

“Morris! Where’s the target?” he called to the man when he’s just started to settle down again. He looked up startled then turned.

“There, sir?” Arthur followed his gaze and made a show of shielding his eyes.

“It’s into the sun?” he said.

“But it’s not that bright!” Morris said. It wasn’t. Arthur smirked.

“A bit like you, then?” Kay cracked up and thumped Belvidere on the back. Morris shuffled over.

“I’ll put the target on the other end shall I, sir?” He picked up the target and started down to the other end of the field. Belvidere leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Teach him a lesson. Go on, boy.” He said, with a sturdy thump on his shoulder.

Arthur pulled out a dagger from his belt and spun it. “This’ll teach him,” Kay called his agreement and Belvidere laughed again. Arthur’s aim was unmatched. He hit the target with ease and Morris fliched.

“Hey! Hang on!” Arthur jeered and chased him to the other end of the field with his daggers until he finally tripped over his own feet and sent the target rolling. The other servants and knights were half paying attention. He heard some disapproving sniffs and ignored them.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough.” Arthur blinked up at the man (boy, really) standing suddenly where the target was. Something that felt terrifyingly like his magic stirred inside him. He froze, forcing it down and glancing subtly around for any suspicious green glow.

“What?”

“You’ve had your fun, my friend.” The boy continued. Arthur shook his head and stared at him.

“Do I know you?”

“Er, I’m Merlin.”

 

“He actually tried to punch me!” Arthur said to Leon, later at lunch. “God it was funny! I’ve never had anyone talk to me like that before.”

“Refreshing was it?”

“As if. A momentary amusement. He won’t try it again. He’s in the dungeons now for assault of the crown prince.”

“In his defense he didn’t know it was you, did he?” Arthur shook his head.

“I won’t leave him long.” Arthur snickered again. “His arms were _sticks_ , Leon. I’ve never seen such a fool.”

-

There was a knock on his door that evening. Arthur crushed the tiny butterfly that had risen out of him. (Like a demon it enchanted him.) “Who goes?”

“It is Gaius.” The old man called from the hall. He pushed the door slowly open and stood, hands folded over the front of his gown. “I have come to tell you that I asked for Merlin to be released from the dungeon. He’ll be spending the morning in the stocks.”

“Who?” Arthur asked. Gaius shook his head and quirked his eyebrow at Arthur. “Sorry, Gaius. Do what you will, I do not care.”

“I hear that you were up to some mischief on the grounds today. Arthur, you are a prince and nearly an adult. You should know better.”

 _Perhaps I am just evil_ , he thought. “I am not yet an adult and, as you say, a prince. I will do as I wish.” Gaius bowed.

“Of course, sire.” He said in that way that made Arthur twist in guilt in a way that neither Uther nor Morgana ever managed. He sighed and Gaius gave him a small smile.

“It is… late. You should go rest.” He said. Gaius bowed once more and left. Arthur fell on his bed. It was unmade and his clothes from yesterday were still on it. “Bollocks.” He said and threw them across the room.

Arthur was feeling restless, he had been for a few days now. _No_ , he thought, that putrid corruption in him was. He didn’t know what was causing it, though he knew something was going to happen. He had felt this magic restlessness before, always around some magical attempt on Uther’s life. Recently, ironically, his paranoia and magic had saved Uther’s life.

It had never felt so… strong before, though. This reaction to other poisoned souls. He woke up glowing, the feeling of endless green and warmth filling him down to his bones. He was glad, for the moment, that he had no manservant bringing him breakfast. Then he saw the state of his room again.

“Father! I really must insist on finding someone—”

“Is this something that can wait until we no longer have a guest of such import?” Uther said coldly. Arthur took a deep breath.

“Of course it is. Please, do not keep Lady Helen waiting. I regret to inform you I will be taking lunch and dinner with the knights.” He bowed and left as quickly as a stately dignified walk would take him. He planned, secretly (petulantly), to do the same until the feast.

Then Arthur ran into Merlin again. Honestly, Arthur was going to just let him go about his business. He heard that the boy was working for Gaius now. Arthur liked that the old man had someone to help him out now, he really did. But his magic kept sparking up randomly throughout the day, and Merlin had foolishly walked past when it did again. He glared at Merlin like the boy was the sole orchestrator of his irritation.

“How’s your knee-walking coming along?” he called. Merlin ignored him and anger and vicious pleasure rose up. “Aw, don’t run away!” Merlin stopped and turned just a little. He could see the same spitefulness in his eye as Arthur’s own and smirked.

“From _you_?” Arthur sighed loudly. A few passersby were stopping and a few of his knights.

“Thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.”

“Look, I told you you’re an ass.” Merlin said. Arthur scoffed and he turned to fully face him. “I just didn’t realize that you were a royal one. Oh,” Merlin smirked at him. “What are you going to do? Get daddy’s men to protect you?” The _bollocks_ on this one! Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

“I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that!” The commoners were chattering now, and his knights were jeering.

“Are you sure?” Arthur said like he was talking to a child. Merlin took his jacket off and even Arthur’s magic was boiling with the laughter. “Here you go then!” He holds his hand back and one of his men handed him a flail that he tossed to Merlin. (He didn’t catch it.) He swung his own expertly and meandered forward like a wild cat on the prowl. “Come on, then. I warn you, I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

Born to kill and murder with a rotten cursed soul. He laughed spitefully as his magic tried to twist up again in excitement. “Wow, and how long have you been training to be a prat?” Arthur snorted and _it_ settled down.

“You can’t address me like that.” He said.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin sneered at him. “How long have you been training to be prat, _My Lord_?” He swung the flail forward with all the force of a half burned moth at a lamp. Arthur gave him a baffled, crooked smile and swung back. His blows sent Merlin stumbling back and smashed the fruit and boxes. A sticky glitter of juice followed his flail head with every swish and kicked up dust with every thump.

“Come on then, Merlin! _Come on_!” Merlin stumbled back and tripped. Arthur looked for a clear spot to slam the flail and scare the boy. He laughed. “You’re in trouble now.”

“Oh god.” He twisted around. Arthur’s magic twisted and recoiled inside him and he flinched. He arm yanked forward, but the flail didn’t follow. Arthur muttered a stream of curses and untangled the chain but Merlin was already up and running again.

Green whipped everywhere in his mind and body but stayed contained. He smashed his shin on a box stumbling forward and swore much more loudly. He glared at Merlin, green in his vision and stomped after him, stumbling through the crowed market pace with the townspeople backing away. His foot caught under a rope and he wondered vaguely if he was cursed with back luck too as Merlin swung the flail in the air with a haughty grin on his face.

“Do you want to give up?”

“To _you_?”

“Do you? Do you want to give up?” He swung again and Arthur backed away from the blow and tripped again on somebody’s bloody _washing_ (Washing should be banned! No, washing shouldn’t be banned. His washing should be done, but everyone else may just stink.). He grabbed something’s pole to hold himself up. The green finally faded for now. Merlin was looking elsewhere and Arthur was feeling as vindictive as he could ever feel.

Honestly, smacking his distracted opponent to the ground with deliciously efficient blows _was_ the best solution. His street guards came over and hoisted Merlin up by the arms. Arthur tilted his head and looked down at the gasping boy. He couldn’t have known what he was getting into, with whom or with what. Arthur waved a hand at the knights.

“Wait.” The paused and Merlin glanced up at him. His eyes were quite wide and bright blue. “He may be an idiot, but he’s a brave one.” Camelot will certainly need that with whatever monstrous force was there, and him. “There is something about you, Merlin.” He mumbled to himself. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

 

Arthur stood at his window, watching the streets below in the flickering torchlight. His guards roamed the streets in pairs, talking quietly to one another. He saw the ones at the gate gambling and joking with each other as the night drew on. A thin echo of children shrieking with laughter and a mother’s tired voice trying to put them to bed floated to the window. She coaxed them with a bed time story. It was nicer, from what he could here, than the ones he heard when he was little. He smiled faintly. He liked it.

No sign of magic came in the night. No strange figures in the dark and no tell tail jerk of his own magic at the sight of them (like a sharp jab in the stomach with a blade of ice,). “Eleventh hour and all’s well!” Arthur slowly pulled away and went to bed.

 

The feast the next night was quite good, as usual. Camelot was a rich kingdom and afforded the very best of cooks and entertainment. He sat with his knights dressed in fine tailored leather and silk. Morgana came in just as he was getting to the end of his regaling of yesterday’s fight. He choked, a smile making its way up to his mouth despite himself. Someone gave a low whistle, which he silenced with a harsh elbow. “God have mercy.”

He dusted himself off and walked over to her. “Morgana, you look well,” he said quietly. She sent him a sharp look and lifted one fine eyebrow. He coughed. “I wanted to say… that I was rather brash, the other day. Though so were you.”

“You are rather terrible at apologies. Did you know that?” She said, smirk playing on dark red lips. He shrugged and grinned crookedly at her.

“I did try though. We should dance.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

“Later. When you improve your apology orating skills.” She turned and he shifted around to her side again.

“What do you want me to say? I am sorry we fought. I,” She tilted her head expectantly. They both kept smiles plastered to their lips. “I was wrong. I looked into it. There was no report of disturbance.” He took her hand when she offered it and stared above her head until he thought he could look down without looking _down_. “That isn’t to say there _wasn’t_ one. But he should have had fair trial.”

She sighed and her smile waned sad. They turned gracefully to the music, palm to palm and shoulder to shoulder.

When they sat to dine, Lady Helen came out dressed in a long flowing gown that glittered and shook with no wind. She smiled silkily at the King and Morgana caught Arthur’s eyes and rolled hers. But when she sang it was _beautiful_. Ethereal and enchanting. He leaned back in his seat to listen and a sharp, frozen sensation shot through him.

Oh, he thought. She’s casting a spell on us. He blinked sleepily and slid unconscious in his seat.

A shattering clamor jerked him out of his sleep and for a moment, he didn’t know what was going on. He heard confused mutters and stood abruptly out of his seat. He was at the feast, covered in cobwebs and the feeling of ice. He looked around. Uther had stood too; the whole room was full of confused guests and cobwebs. An ancient woman lay under the chandelier on the ground in Lady Helen’s dress. She glared molten lava and hate at him.

 _What is going on?_ He thought as she raised her arm and threw a dagger straight at him. He felt like he was falling slowly into cool water. He blinked impossibly slow as the dagger did sluggish turn after turn. He tried to move but his body was moving even slower. Was this what it was like to die?

Arthur felt a sudden yank and the dagger abruptly moved at dagger speeds again. He saw it thud deep into the back of his chair. He swallowed and staggered upright again.

“You…” Uther said. Why was he looking this way, there was a sorceress on the floor under a chandelier? “Saved my boy’s life. A debt must be repaid.” Well, at least she was under a chandelier. He turned slowly. Oh, Merlin was standing just behind him. He didn’t have that look of spiteful playfulness like a cat with a mouse anymore. He looked like a rather even tempered fellow, actually; like Leon.

Merlin was talking and Arthur’s brain was finally up to normal speed. He flushed at his unpreparedness. Green that he hadn’t even noticed was there seeped away from the edges of his vision. “Oh, well…”

“Don’t be so modest. You shall be rewarded.” He father sounded very happy. Dead sorceresses do that, Arthur supposed. Uther clapped Merlin on the shoulder even as he awkwardly protested. “No, absolutely. This merits something quite special.”

“Well…” His father had a very prideful glitter to his eyes when Arthur looked. Oh dear. He turned him and Merlin towards the table and the room.

“You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.” The court applauded loudly. _Oh, he must feel so_ proud _of himself_ , Arthur thought, smile tightly strung across his face. Merlin didn’t know how to make court faces and stood there looking dim. They turned away from each other. His magic curled like a nasty cat, content in his chest.

 

Arthur stood in the doorway of his room with his father later that night. Uther had been, for the time it took to walk from his study to Arthur’s room, the world’s finest and most concerned father.And likeall good things, it must come to an end.

 He blinked into Arthur’s room. “…Go summon your manservant, Arthur.” Uther said after a long moment. “I fear we waited too long.” Arthur nodded and tried not to laugh. He had tried to warn him.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know if you see any errors, glaring mistakes, or things you particularly enjoy!


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